


Rest of Tomorrow

by CalmIsOverrated



Series: Rest of Tomorrow [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 21:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20432717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalmIsOverrated/pseuds/CalmIsOverrated
Summary: After the Apocalypse didn't go down, the city became too much for Aziraphale and Crowley.





	Rest of Tomorrow

The city became too much for Crowley and Aziraphale.

The apocalypse had been thwarted many years ago. The anti-Christ was now approaching his late twenties and had a few kids himself (all without any hooves or horns). Newt and Anathema had married and moved off long ago. The Them always sent the demon and angel holiday cards.

Heaven and Hell hadn’t bothered either of them since the time they attempted to enact revenge that failed quite spectacularly. Both seemed to have decided it simply wasn’t worth the effort. The higher ups probably decided to pretend the Crowley and Azi simply no longer existed.

Without either of their sides looming over their shoulders the angel and demon were able to relax for the first time in a millennia. Not try to look for an excuse for every one of their actions. They weren’t entirely under their boss’ control so neither of them reported to their respective higher ups. But a blessing or damning every now and then didn’t hurt anybody.

The two settled down. Something of domestic bliss evolved, or as close as you can get with an angel and demon. If over the next few months afterwards Crowley’s things began making their way into Aziraphale’s bookshop, neither really addressed it. At least until the demon caused a bit of mischief at his apartment and accidentally got himself, as well as many other tenants, as well as many others.

At first he was looking for a new apartment, halfheartedly albeit, he was staying at the bookshop. Aziraphale told the demon he was practically living there anyways and he could stay until he found a place to live at.

Crowley slept on the painfully small reading couch that was offered to him. Then Aziraphale had offered his bed. (“I see you rolling your shoulders in discomfort. It's from sleeping on the couch, isn't it? Just take my bed, my dear. It’s not getting much use from me, I don’t need to rest anyways.” “Don’t be silly angel, the bed is perfectly big enough for both of us. You read, I’ll sleep. Seems like an arrangement to me.” “Oh.  _ Oh _ . Alright then.”) Crowley abandoned the idea of getting a new apartment entirely.

There were no big love declarations for them. The feelings weren't new (though some of the things they were allowed to do were). Not odd or scary. It was like coming home for the first time, it just felt natural. They settled into it, and their lives didn’t change dramatically. With neither of their respective bosses breathing down their backs they could safely be honest with each other. It was over six thousand years coming, and Aziraphale and Crowley had the rest of eternity to make up for taking so long.

During Aziraphale’s odd opening hours, if you could manage to find a day where he had his sign flipped to open, and were able to withstand the harsh glares from the owner and the smell, you could find Crowley either napping on the couch or in his giant seven foot long snake form, finding a place to simultaneously bask in the streaming sunlight and scare off customers. Sometimes the angel could force him to do something productive, like help rearrange the books back into their assigned spots while Queens played in the background. It would always come with a lot of hissing and persuasive kisses.

Two full years after the Apocalypse that didn’t. Aziraphale was tired of giving his books away. The angel often had to resist the urge to run down the street after a customer and offer more money than they spent to get one back He didn’t need the money, he was an angel, maybe not a very angelic one, but he could summon money with the snap of his fingers. He couldn’t do the same with his books.

Aziraphle told Crowley that he was quite upset after selling one of the rare first editions. The demon simply said, from the couch where he was flipping through a newspaper. “Why don’t you just not sell books? We’re well enough off to retire, angel.” He sold the bookshop, Crowley helped him pack. A few of his long time customers came by to wish him well and may wherever he go be prosperous.

The angel and demon had always been fond of the city, it wasn’t either of their speeds anymore. They wanted to take part in the sinful simplicity of the human lives they’d fought so long and hard for. They found a small cottage where the two could simply coexist together, off of Heaven and Hell’s radars.

Books filled the abundant bookshelves lining the walls. The only place they weren’t allowed was the bed. It was after an instance of Crowley jumping onto their bed, exhausted, and landing on the edge of a very big book. It had left a memorable bruise that went from the middle of his back to his hip for a good day or so. Aziraphale had apologized for a good week afterwards. (“Trust me, my dear. Humans use this method all the time. It’s called ‘kissing it better’.”)

Aziraphale liked to think that he had an order within the disorder but the tidy demon knew he really didn’t. He simply put things where he thought it might look good. If the angel found something at the market he liked, even if they had no need or room for it, he’d buy it and take it home to add to his stash of things. Crowley once reminded Aziraphale that they were angels, not magpies. His winged lover didn’t talk to him until he apologized.

There was a garden outside that nearly engulfed the small building. Wonderful and vibrantly colored flowers bloomed nearly year round. Pests were constantly terrified to come near anything Crowley planted, so nothing ate at the delicate leaves or petals. He’d planted vegetables for Aziraphale to cook with, but he had to be careful not to scare them. Terrified flowers may have looked beautiful but terrified tomatoes tasted like fear.

One day, not long after they’d settled down in their home Aziraphale paused with a stack of books in his hands. He’d been compulsively rearranging the books to get them just right every few days. Sometimes he would come out of it looked contented other times Crowley had to drag him away to take a break.

  
“Angel? Is everything alright,” the demon asked cautiously, looking a lot more alert than he had a minute ago, eyes half-lidded as he watched Aziraphale move around the room. It had been a few years after the incident, Crowley was still on edge. Aziraphale didn’t blame him and decided to try to reassure him. “It’s alright, my dear. It’s just… There’s this feeling.”

Crowley sat forwards, looking as nervous as he sounded. “A bad feeling?”

“No. It’s not like that...“ There was a feeling in the air, he’d been sensing it for a while now. But it just seemed to be getting stronger. He had a sense of nostalgia, he’d felt it before. Then he remembered. “Crowley, do you remember when we stepped foot at that hospital. I said it felt loved?”

"Yeesss. Opposite of spooky and whatnot. Why? Is that what you're feeling? 'Cause angel, I think your senses need to catch up. I've been in love with you for over six thousand years."

“No, I knew about that,” Aziraphale huffed at the insecurity in Crowley’s voice. “I can always feel your love, my dear Crowley. It’s not the same, however. It’s this  _ place _ . It feels like us. Safe, and happy, and- and  _ loved _ .” He put down the books in his arms and turned to the nearest wall, pressing his palm to it in wonder. Aziraphale heard the demon standing up behind him and walking closer. The angel could feel the body heat radiating from besides him, the slight smell of leather and musty car. Familiar.   


“Didn’t you feel this kind of thing at the bookshop?” Crowley questioned, still a little bit skeptical about the whole thing. His arm snaked around Aziraphale’s waist. “That place seemed pretty damned loved.” He reminisced about all the times they’d shared at the bookshop, before and after the apocalypse..

Aziraphale shook his head, his fingers intertwined with the demon’s as they stood there. “I-I think it has to do with us. I made the bookshop, you didn’t love it like I did. And truthfully, I didn’t like the building as much as I did the books inside, so I don’t think it counted.” He let his head fall back on the demon’s shoulder and closed his eyes. “But Crowley, my dear, this is  _ our home _ now, we’ve both put so much love into it and each other. It’s ours, and we made it together.”

“Yes we did, angel.” His other arm joined its twin wrapped around the angel. They’d built this safe Haven for themselves through blood, sweat, tears and love. He pressed a kiss on the angel’s forehead before resting his chin on Aziraphale’s head.

Crowley loved his angel, and Aziraphale loved the demon. Their love would never fade. No matter where they lived, what forms they took, or the obstacles that lay in their path. As long as they had each other, it would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Uhh. I suck at writing. I cross posted this on FF.net under the same user (it only got like one favorite and little attention, kinda hoping for the same here). I have a Tumblr... Calm-is-overrated. You can say hi or something. Or if you wish to stalk me or tell me about your undying hatred for my very being and how every word I type brings you pain, that's fine too.


End file.
